Debt
by Momosportif
Summary: I will say nothing more than it involves Cross and Allen and my opinion of the only way they could exist as anything more than what they appear to be. Rated T for certain implications. Lovlies belong to Katsura Hoshino.


POV SWITCHES AT THE LINES (it starts as Allen and then goes to Cross and so on...sorry I forgot to mention it...usually I do but I didn't and someone got confused so I'm very apologetic -bow and grovel-)

First, I feel a beginning explanation is in order...there will be one at the end too, don't worry.

Random reader: CrossxAllen? You perv!!

Random reader2: CrossxAllen? You God!!

Me: ...No.

RR: How could you defile their innocent relationship?!

Me: I don't. Well, sort of...They don't have an innocent relationship to defile...They should though.

RR2: Wait..does that means it's an anti-pairing? You B# How dare you string me on!

Me: I didn't. Well sort of...You can't deny it's twisted. (But then, I have a secret TiedollxKanda obsession...I'm sorry, please don't respect me any less)

RR2: TiedollxKanda is disgusting! You perv!

Me: Takes one to know one. And I don't really support it...I can just understand how easily a teacherxstudent love could accidentally become more in certain instances..(Finally! I used to abhor them..I still kind of do)

RR: You're an idiot...Who the hell starts fics off with an author's note like this? You should get kicked off the internet.

Me: It's only a matter of time...

RR2: You never answered my question -crying fangirl tears-

Me: ...-pat pat- It's okay?

RR: I'm leaving.

Me: No!! Please read it!! I need reviews! It's my birthday!!

RR and RR2: BUT YOU HAVEN'T EVEN TOLD US WHAT IT'S ABOUT!!

Me: It is what it is. Please read. -sobbing author tears- (aside: I'm not even getting paid for this!!)

* * *

I thought he was drunk.

* * *

I never came home drunk, no matter what, I never did.

* * *

That was the only reason I could think of.

* * *

I never did.

* * *

He walked fairly straight though.

* * *

I never.

* * *

I thought he was drunk and didn't remember which bed was his and that if I just lay still he would go away.

* * *

I wish I had been drunk that night.

* * *

He didn't go away.

* * *

I thought he was asleep but I knew he was awake and that night showed me what a difference there is between thinking and knowing. And I knew.

* * *

He didn't go away.

* * *

He was still dressed, hadn't changed. I didn't mean it like that.

* * *

His hands moved fairly steadily though. I thought he was drunk.

* * *

He was wearing socks still. The pair with a hole in the left heel. Gray.

* * *

I thought he was finished and I couldn't breath.

* * *

He was always such a stupid boy. A stupid boy.

* * *

He didn't go away.

* * *

I couldn't find his god-damned nightshirt. Stupid boy.

* * *

I thought he was done but he came back and I knew he wasn't drunk at all and I couldn't breath because I didn't want to smell the lack of alcohol.

* * *

I almost did it I almost did. But his eyes were full and I had to make them shatter before anyone else did, before someone worse than me dared to, before-

* * *

He touched me.

* * *

I never should have touched him. I didn't mean it like that. God-damned nightshirt.

* * *

He put his hand against my skin and my heart exploded and I knew he wasn't drunk. At all. I couldn't breath because I was crying.

* * *

His eyes were breaking and shattering across the bed like a broken window and I wished I had been out there looking through it and not in there laying on it.

* * *

I was crying.

* * *

I knew.

* * *

It wasn't warm. It wasn't gentle. It wasn't soft. It wasn't perfect or safe or right or soft or soft or-

* * *

Soft. Soft like infant skin, like silk. And I hated

* * *

I couldn't open my mouth because I couldn't scream because I couldn't breath because it was warm and it was gentle and it was soft, it was gentle. And I loved

* * *

myself for wanting it, for grinding the glass into even smaller pieces because it was already broken anyways. Broken broken glass is still broken glass.

* * *

him for being gentle. I didn't know he could be gentle and I wanted to be close in case we fell apart and he was really drunk and I was really asleep. If I was close I could smell the lack of alcohol. But I couldn't breath.

* * *

Maybe if he had struggled. Maybe if he had spoken. Maybe screamed, maybe something. But he just moved when I moved him and raised when I raised him and hurt when I hurt him so it wasn't. It wasn't Allen.

* * *

It was raining red.

* * *

I never came home drunk, no matter what, I never did.

* * *

Raining red and falling across my bed because there was no window, I know there was no window because I was completely wet. It was warm.

* * *

Allen has the biggest eyes I've ever seen but whatever moved when I moved it, it had nothing.

* * *

Red.

* * *

Broken broken broken glass is broken glass.

* * *

I could open my mouth.

* * *

Broken broken broken broken glass is broken glass.

* * *

I could open my mouth because he was talking to me and expecting an answer but I didn't understand the language but I was trying to explain but I was trying.

* * *

I almost did it. I almost did. I almost put one of my own god-damned shirts on him that night but he was breathing. I wonder if he knows he should have been asleep.

* * *

He wouldn't talk to me the next day. And I was lost. He wouldn't talk to me when I actually wanted him to, for once, for once he wouldn't talk to me, for once, I needed him. I wonder if he knows I never slept until he came back every night after that in case he forgot which bed was his again.

* * *

I wonder if he knows I knew he never went to sleep until I got back every night after that. Stupid boy.

* * *

Was I not good enough? Did I do something wrong? Was it my fault? I didn't scream, I made sure I didn't. Did I? Am I too skinny? Am I too short? I fit perfectly, perfectly against him, perfectly. Did I? I'm lost. It was gray the next morning and he wouldn't even look at me. He wouldn't.

* * *

He wasn't.

* * *

I thought he was drunk but I know that he wasn't.

* * *

How do I pay this back? How do you pay someone back their first kiss?

* * *

I was crying. I'm still crying.

* * *

Your first kiss?

* * *

Gray. With a hole in the left heel.

* * *

Broken glass is broken glass.

* * *

Well, there it was. If you have any questions, just ask. :s I shant be ashamed to answer! And, as I said, it is what it is and you can see what you want and ignore what you want and print out and burn what you want and so on and son forth. Thank you for reading!

-S

* * *


End file.
